nights spent searching
by bottle of beast
Summary: because they were Peter and Gwen. and nothing was going to change that. peter/gwen


_love was never really part of her plan_

when she first lays her eyes on Peter Parker, she's not quite sure what to make of him. he was just another face in the crowd, someone to talk to on occasion. he was the school photographer, an artist. she was a scientist.

and when she first sees him, - _really _sees him, in all his awkward teenage glory - he takes a stand and says no. gets a few fists for it, too, and she finds herself rushing forward to help the one boy in midtown high who wasn't scared.

and before she knows what's happening, they're talking. well, if staring and muttering a few words (and blushing, a lot of blushing) can account for a conversation. she realizes that Peter Parker is quite the guy. odd, but interesting at the same time. and awkward, very awkward. they walk to class together and talk some more and even partner up for science.

when she realizes he has the same love for science as she does, she feels like dancing on the school roof.

and before she knows what she's doing, she's giving him her address and inviting him over for dinner.

he gives her a sort of sheepish grin. "okay," he says, looking down at the paper. "nine o'clock. got it."

she nods and smiles and, for once, it's not the polite smile that she pastes on for meetings with her dad's higher-ups and horny boys that wanted her to 'tutor them'. it's genuine, and it stays on her face for the rest of the day.

dinner is everything she doesn't want and everything she wants.

she knows he's hiding something; she can see it in his eyes. when he arrives, it's in the most un-normal way she can imagine. she hears knocking on her window. she looks up from her books - and books and books and books - and her eyes widen. she walks over quickly and props the window open. he smiles like, no, it's not odd at all that he's standing here outside on her ledge, over a hundred feet up off the ground.

"how'd you get up here?" she whispers, eyes darting around in case her parents decided to come in.

"fire escape," he answers, a bit too quickly.

"it's twenty stories." she raises an eyebrow.

"your doorman's intimidating," he says with a grin and she laughs, moving aside to let him in.

she has her first 'eureka!' moment on the same night. all it takes is his eyes, uncomfortable, nervously flitting around the dinner table while her father rants and rages about the god-awful 'spider-guy'. and one second he's sitting and the next he's blurting something that, under normal circumstances might be funny, but in her circumstances (with her father and job and life) are 'inappropriate'.

that was her first clue.

the second is out on the roof, where a strangely comfortable silence ensues. she looks out at all the lights of new york city, - the city that never sleeps - the tiny bobs of light signalling cars and buildings and people. "sorry," she says softly. "for my dad."

"it's no big deal," he assures her, looking out at the city.

they're silent for a while, wrapped in a quiet embrace. she inches closer and closer. she brings her face up to his, meets his gaze with hers. and then they're getting closer and closer and she's sure they're about to kiss and-

"i have to tell you something..." he says quietly. "about ... about oscorps."

she breaks from the hold and takes a tiny step back, a feather of a retreat. "oh," she mutters. "right, yes, okay. go ahead."

he opens his mouth. then closes it. then opens it. then closes it. finally, he shakes his head. "wait, no, screw that. i have to tell you something about _me._"

she nods, and the feather vanishes. "what is it?"

"i ... i can't..." he sighs, his frustration evident. "it's hard to explain."

she brings her face closer to his. "just say it."

"i can't."

and then he breaks away and looks out over the city, shoulders hunched, eyes closed. his breathing comes out controlled and forced.

"what?" she asks, eyes wide, leaning over the ledge to face him. "what?"

then he looks up and his eyes flip open and he smiles - small, but surely there - and he just shakes his head. that one little action is enough to send her heart reeling.

**he doesn't trust her.**

she nods slowly and backs away, gnawing furiously on her bottom lip. she turns, ready to give him his needed space when something wraps around her and pulls her close. she looks down in time to see something sticky from Peter's fingers, and her jaw drops.

"y-y-you ... you're ..."

web. spiderweb.

spiderman.

and then she doesn't know what happens because his lips are on hers and everything falls away.

_good lord, she was in trouble. _

* * *

all she can remember are meetings. having to go to visit her dad's higher-ups occasionally, during parties and social events. her mother would doll her up in un-Gwen-like dresses and brush her silky blonde hair so that it fell in ringlets.

**be perfect for us. **

and she would laugh with her father's boss when appropriate, make comments when appropriate, jump in to provide input when appropriate. a bright smile here, a nod there. sugar-coating her thoughts when all she wants to do is jump out of her seat and grab their shoulders and shake them and scream _why? _

they took her father away. it was a job, apparently.

please.

all she can think of are nights spent staying up late, looking out her window and praying to a god she didn't believe in that things would be okay, that he would come home in one piece. how she says good-bye to him carefully every single morning, so that her last words to him wouldn't be a scream or a sarcastic comment or a **waste. **how she was forced to grow up older than other girls who didn't have responsibilities like her, and routines that kept them sane.

and that's all she can think of when she watches out her window and scavenges among the stars for Peter Parker. and when he does come, clad in his blue-and-red suit, with an injury or two and a stupid grin on his face, she wants to laugh and cry and scold him at the same time.

instead, she settles for sighing, rolling her eyes, and dragging him in and making him sit down as she cleans him up. her fingers shake and her heart is beating so hard she's sure he can hear it, but he just smiles like he'd rather be no place else in the world and, for a while, _she lets herself feel again. _

* * *

one day, he arrives with cuts and bruises and a thinking face on, she doesn't know what to say. she just gets to work, cleaning his wounds and whispering words of safety to him. he calms down enough to explain his situation.

"there's something out there," he says quietly, his breathing hitched. "something big and dangerous. scary."

she doesn't know what to say, so she just bites down on her lip and continues to work as he pours his heart out.

when he's done, she gives him a look. "you don't have to do this." _you could be normal. you could be safe._

he shakes his head and looks down at himself. "i don't know how i got these powers. but ... but what i _do _know is that new york city needs a hero. i can be that hero, Gwen."

and she's proud and scared at the same time. he notices this and takes her face in his hands. "hey," he says quietly. "hey, what's wrong?"

she takes a shuddering breath. "e-every day, for as long as i can remember, my father has left every morning and has put a badge on his chest and strapped a gun to his hip. and every day, for as long as i can remember, i haven't known if he was going to make it home."

he's quiet for a moment, not sure what to think. "i have to, though. i have to stop him. because i created him."

she inhales and gives a shaky smile. and then she leans in and kisses him softly. "stay safe."

and he promises.

she believes him.

* * *

when she gets the news that her father is dead, she forgets to breathe. the informant officer gives her a wary look.

"ma'am?" he asks, concerned. he takes a step towards her and she takes two steps back. "ma'am, are you alright?"

_no no no no no. _she paints herself in pretty-pretty-pink and smiles. "i'm fine, thank you."

he nods and leaves and she crumples to the floor.

* * *

when she goes to visit Peter, everything is grey. her coat, her umbrella, the rain, the atmosphere and her thoughts. she shivers, pulling her jacket around her and clutches her umbrella with tight hands when the door opens and she looks into the face of a very guilty looking boy. this boy has messy hair and brown eyes that sparkle and see more than most his age.

she loved this boy. and she still does. she _knows _it and it's killing her.

her father was supposed to be **invincible. **and now? he was **gone. **

"we had a funeral today," she manages to choke out. the rain pelts her like tiny bullets. Peter looks away.

"everyone was there," she continues. "officers. my teachers. even ... even Flash."_  
_

then she drops her hands to her sides and feels utterly defeated. "so where were you?" _where were you when i needed you?_

he says nothing. just clutches the doorway like his life depends on it, his mouth tight, eyes stubborn. she swallows down a sob and repeats, "where were you?"

nothing.

she clenches her hands into fists and makes her way down the steps. she can feel his stare behind her.

she's halfway down the pathway leading to sidewalk when she understands. she whips around and yells, "he made you promise, didn't he?"

his eyes are sad. she can't see the spark in them anymore. she wants to slap it back in.

but she just leaves.

* * *

_the next few days are filled with stares and want and spared glances and secret gazes and staring out the window until all she can see is red and blue. _

* * *

she's in science class, - her favorite - when _he _stumbles in, papers slipping from his binder, his hoodie stained, and his hair messy.

she looks away.

the teacher frowns. "tardy again, Mr. Parker?" she sighs.

he grins sheepishly. "sorry, ma'am," he says as he takes a seat. "won't happen again, i promise."

she shakes her head and turns back to the board. "don't make promises you can't keep, Mr. Parker."

silence.

silence.

and then she hears his voice - quiet, so quiet - and breath on her ear. "but those are the best kind."

and she smiles for the first time in forever.

* * *

_"it'll be dangerous," he warns._

_"i don't care."_

_"you could get hurt." he looks scared then, really scared. "i don't want that happening."_

_"i don't care." _

_"you don't care if you get hurt?"_

_"nope."_

_"if you do, i'll never forgive myself. neither will your dad."_

_"i won't get hurt. i'll be fine."_

_they're silent for a while. and then he says, " i love you."_

_"i love you, too." _

* * *

there are risks and nights spent up late watching and searching and threats and dangerous swings - one. wrong. turn. - and they're scared. she's scared she'll lose him. he's scared he'll lose her.

but despite all this, they stay.

he is her armor.

she is his shoulder to cry on.

together, they're Peter and Gwen.

and nothing was going to change that.


End file.
